


Rockabye Baby

by WildFire35



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Ashamed Dean Winchester, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Codependent Winchesters, Dean Has Secrets, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam, Fluff and Angst, Gags, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapped Sam, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitute Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Angst, Sam Finds Out, Sam Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam is Missing, Secrets, Smut, Worried Bobby Singer, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildFire35/pseuds/WildFire35
Summary: John never leaves enough money to pay the bills, so Dean does what he has to in order to make sure Sam has clothes to wear and food to eat. But what happens when Sam finds out how much Dean is sacrificing?And later, a case pops up pertaining to Dean's night job, and Sam is kidnapped. Can Dean save Sam in time? And even if he can, will he ever be able to fix their relationship? And most importantly, will I ever stop asking dramatic hook questions?





	1. Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is 19, Sam is 15.  
> I do not support child prostitution in any way. This is purely a work of fiction.  
> The non-con doesn't come in until chapter 5.
> 
> I don't own any characters from Supernatural. As always, I would love a kudo and a comment to know how I'm doing. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, because here we go!

"Gahhhh" Dean moaned as pain sliced through his lower half. He buried his head in the back of the headrest and squeezed his eyes closed to hold back the rising tears. The man pounded forward again, and Dean gasped as he felt the knife-like pain stab through him again.

He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste distracted him from the pain behind him, where more blood was surely leaking out. 

"That's right. Cry out pretty boy. Use that pretty mouth of yours for something" the man taunted, continuing the vicious pace.

"Uhhhhhhhhh" Dean gritted his teeth and threw his head forward again. He could feel the man's hand on his back, sliding on the slimy sweat that coated both of their bodies. Dean felt the man tense up and give a shout, before pumping in once, twice, and then pulling out, leaving a blessed coolness behind. They lay there for a minute, gasping for breath before Dean slowly started to pull his clothes back on, wincing as his pants brushed his painful backside.

The man handed Dean a crumpled fifty dollar bill, which Dean stuck in his pocket.

"Keep the change pumpkin" the man grinned, exposing his filthy, tobacco stained teeth. He pulled Dean in for a last messy kiss, his tongue shoving roughly inside of Dean's mouth. When they finally pulled apart, the man looking pleased while Dean tried to hide his disgust.

With that, Dean climbed out of the semi-truck and watched as it pulled away. The driver gave a loud honk on his horn as he left.

"You disgusting bastard" Dean yelled at the fleeting vehicle before collapsing on the pavement. His head was pounding and he was sore all over. Blood trickled from his bottom lip and tears pricked at his eyes. Dean laid his head in his hands and silently let his tears flood out. He cried tears of pain, tears of humiliaiton. He let himself swim in misery, but he didn't let it last long. The night was wasting and he still had more business to do. Dean pulled himself to his feet, groaning, and walked toward the nearby gas station. He entered the cheap bathroom oblivious to the chashier's looks and stared into the mirror after the door thumped closed behind him.

The buzzing fluorescent light above illuminated the cracked mirror and dirty bathroom. Dean examined his face, doing his best to remove the red rings around his eyes from his crying. He wiped the blood from his lip, making sure his lips looked soft and pouty, and checked to make sure his clothes were arranged properly. With one last deep, calming breath, he walked out into the chilly night.

Dean shivered. He wasn't wearing close to enough clothing for the freezing October night weather. He had on only a pair of low rise jeans peppered with holes and a tank top that showed off his muscular arms and his entire chest if he turned sideways. Shivering, he had to forcibly remove his arms from around his chest and put them casually in his pockets as he leaned against a light pole on the streetcorner. Dean made sure he looked inviting, showing off his large lips that were perfect for.....well, anything the customer wanted. He watched his breath turn to smoke and float out of his mouth while trying not to shiver. It took only a few minutes before another semi pulled over and opened its door. Dean climbed in, shutting the door behind him. He was glad. At least when he was working he was warm.

Dean finally limped into the motel room at 3 in the morning. He pulled the crumpled bills out of his pocket and counted almost three hundred dollars before storing the money in the motel safe. It had been a good night. They might even be able to afford a few non canned items from the grocery this week. Dean knew he needed a shower, but he couldn't stop himself from checking on Sam. He gingerly set himself on the mattess next to his sleeping brother. Dean loved watching Sam sleep. He looked so calm, so peaceful. Dean lovingly brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes and thought of a lullaby their mom had sung Dean when he was a little baby. It didn't matter that Sam was fifteen. No matter what, he would always be Dean's baby.

"Rockabye baby, rockabye" he sang.

"I'm gonna rock you, so rockabye baby, don't you cry" Dean's voice cracked on the last few words, knowing Sam wasn't the one in danger of crying. Dean swiped the back of his hand across his moist eyes and stood up. All he wanted now was rest. He walked over to the other twin bed in the room and collapsed on the lumpy motel matress. As soon as he lay down he instantly fell into a dreamless sleep, not even bothering to remove his shoes.


	2. Chapter S: Sammy, Stanford, and Spaghetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really long chapter, I just got started and couldn't stop. I have some pretty awesone ideas for the next couple chapters, and plan to update regularly, so make sure to check back in! (:

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Sam, turn off the God-damn alarm", Dean groaned. He rolled over and shuddered, feeling a wave of pain shoot through him. Dean bit his lip to hold in a shout before hastily letting go. He had forgotten about his bloody lip from the night before. As new blood trickled down his face, thoughts and images from last night flashed through his head. The first man's filthy, tobacco stained teeth. The cracked and dirty gas station bathroom. The chilly night. His breath rising in a frozen cloud. But most of all, he remembered the pain, the humiliation, the biting cold. Dean shivered even thinking about it. He closed his eyes and did his best to push those thoughts out of his head. He had to stay calm while Sam was still here.

"Sammy, if you don't get out of bed you're going to be late. Again" Dean shouted. When he still heard no movement from next to him, he picked up a pillow and threw it over.

" 'm movin' " Sam replied, sitting up. Dean looked over and felt his breath catch in his throat. Sam looked gorgeous as the soft morning light fell over his tousled hair and bleary eyes. His mouth was curved up into his cute little "sleep smile" as Dean had named it. Sam laced his arms over his head showing off his leanly muscled torso and stretched, sighing. 

"Put some pants on, you lazy ass" Dean said tossing a pair of jeans over. Sam laughed his maddening laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his mouth opening to show off his rows of beautiful white teeth. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fists. He had to focus on getting Sam to school, not on mother-henning him. In another ten minutes both boys were ready to go. They hopped into the Impala, Sam moaning about the awful chemistry exam he had later that day. Dean nodded along, smiling when Sam stopped his bitter tirade to take an air guitar solo in the middle of Journey's _"Don't Stop Believing"_  when it came on the radio. A few minutes later, Dean parked and dropped Sam off at the local high school. They knuckle bumped before Sam ran off to join his friends. 

Dean watched him go, jealous that Sam's friends got to spend more time with Sammy than he did. Eventually, Dean sighed and pulled away, driving back to the motel. After locking the door behind him and checking all the salt lines, Dean tossed his keys onto the bed-side table and headed into the bathroom. He turned the shower onto hot and carefully took his clothes off. He examined his face and body in the mirror, noticing how hard last night had been on him. His lips were swollen and his chest was covered in bruises. A line of hickeys stood out on his right thigh from a particularly possessive customer, and there was still blood on his ass. Steam slowly started fogging over the mirror, so Dean stopped his examination and climbed into the blesedly hot water.

He let the water run down his body, soothing his aching muscles. Dean stretched and massaged his jaw which had locked up last night after his fourth blow job. It had been a while since he'd worked that hard. Dean turned his face into the spray, massaging shampoo into his scalp, basking in the feeling of the suds slipping gently down his body. For the next 20 minutes, Dean carefully soaped up his body and rinsed off before finally climbing out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered back into the room. Beads of moisture glistened on his muscled chest, and water dripped from his sopping hair. 

Feeling more like himself, Dean walked over to the safe and looked at the wads of cash stored inside. It was time to make another run to the bank. Dean searched through the room for a pair of pants besides what he had worn last night and finally found a pair of old jeans at the bottom of his duffle. He paired it with his Secondhand Serenade t-shirt and drove over to the nearest Wells Fargo. Inside the building it was cold, almost too cold. For a second Dean remembered how cold last night had been with his breath pluming in front of him in a great cloud, before he managed to pull himself back to the present.

"I can help you over here" a man called. He was friendly, dressed professionally in a button down shirt. His hair was neat and unlike Dean, he had no purple bags under his eyes, one of the many side effects of too many nights sleeping in cheap motels.

"How may I assist you today?" the man asked with a smile.

"A deposit please" Dean replied, handing over his own debit card. This account was too important to be formed on a stolen card. As the teller typed in information, Dean imagined Sam there instead. This was the type of life he deserved.

"Your balance is $14, 362" the man said.

"How much would you like to deposit?" he waited patiently as Dean fished the crumpled bills out of his pocket.

"I have $615" Dean said, pushing the result of many nights of hard work over the counter. The man, whose name was Allan according to his name-tag, counted the bills and printed off Dean's receipt. He wished Dean a good day, to which Dean politely nodded before driving back to the motel. Once there, he paid the owner for another night, before going back to his room and collapsing on one of the beds.

_Christ. He had hardly any money in the account and Sam was almost finished with his freshman year already. And Dean had heard him talking about Stanford. Stanford! He'd have to start working extra nights if he was going to help Sam reach his goal. And Sam would if it took Dean every night for the next three years. Sam would have that Allan-like life, only as a lawyer. Not a banker. Sam was too smart to be a banker._

The thoughts chased each other though Dean's head before he fell into a deep, silent sleep. He was woken up hours later by the jiggling of the door handle. Leaning up on his elbows he watched in confusion as Sam walked into the room.

"Home already Sammy?"

"Dean, its 4:15" Sam replied, slouching off his backpack. Surprised, Dean looked over at the cheap digital clock. He was supposed to pick Sam up from school at 3:45.

"I'm so sorry Sammy. I just came back to the motel for a minute and...." Dean trailed off. He couldn't explain how he needed the extra rest ,because he hadn't slept for three nights straight now. Come to think of it, it had been weeks since Dean last had a good night's sleep. On the evenings he wasn't working he was fighting off nightmares of large men and no money. But he couldn't tell Sammy any of that.

"It's fine Dean. It was a pretty day anyways" Sam paused, seeming to pick up where Dean had left off.

"Where were you last night, Dean?" Sam asked, meeting his brother's guilty gaze.

"With a nice blonde chick. You should have seen the ass on her" Dean replied smoothly. Sam continued to stare at him, and it was Dean who ended up looking away. It was as if Sam had X-Ray vision or something. Dean closed his eyes. There was no way Sam could see through his lie; he was just being paranoid.

"Man, I want to be just like you", Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Being with who I want, eating what I want, driving where I want", Sam smiled.

"No Sammy. Your life is gonna be better than my life. You're going to have a good life" Dean said fiercely. Sam looked up, surprised at Dean's statement. They sat like that for a minute, each absorbed in his love for the other before Dean finally broke the silence.

"You hungry? What do you say to spaghetti, Sammy?"


	3. Old Habits Die Hard

The week continued as it always did. Dean was being as frugal as possible with their money, but John was more than two weeks late, and even after Dean's night of work, they were still almost out of cash.

"Do it for Sammy", Dean whispered in the mirror that night as he pulled on his holey jeans and exposing shirt. He carefully applied a little eye-liner to make sure his eyes looked wide and innocent. Checking on his brother one final time, Dean slipped into the cold night, feeling the freezing fog drift over him, raising goose-bumps on his bare arms. He leaned against a lightpole and was pleased when a truck pulled over in minutes. He climbed inside, and hopped out about ten minutes later with fifteen more dollars in his pocket.

The truck pulled away, and as he saw it dwindle in the distance, he became aware of someone else on his streetcorner.

"This is my corner. Scram" he said, turning to look at the intruder. But as he caught a glimpse of the person under the dull circle of yellow light, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Standing there in the cold night on the cracked sidewalk was Sammy, wearing basketball shorts and a tear stained grimace. 

"Why, Dean?", Sam whispered, his breath hitching.

"Sammy-", Dean started toward him, wanting to take him out of the cold.

"Why?", he questioned again, staring into his hero's green eyes. And Dean realized that he couldn't look back into those chocolate eyes that were melting his heart. He was too ashamed, too embarrassed. He was dirty and defiled, and he couldn't look at sweet little Sammy who still loved him.

"C'mon, Sammy. Let's go back to the motel room. It's too cold for you to be out here", Dean said, his eyes downcast. He was suddenly aware of how revealing his clothing was, and he felt ridiculous for the eye-liner he had put on before going out. 

Sam let Dean lead him by the shoulder back to where they were staying. Dean unlocked the door and both of the boys walked in, their cheeks flushed from the cold. Dean got Sam situated back into his bed, before making a move to go over to his own bed.

"No, Dean. You're sleeping with me tonight", Sam stared at Dean, his gaze unwavering.

"Aren't you a little old for that?", Dean asked, trying to avoid the inevitable.

"I know you're going to try to sneak out again. So you're sleeping with me. If you leave, then I leave with you". Sam struck his chin out in defiance, daring Dean to argue.

"Alright , Kiddo. Scoot over, though. I've got to be able to fit my big ass on the bed". It took some wiggling and adjusting, but both boys fit surprisingly well together. Sam nuzzled his head into Dean's chest, and damn, it felt good to Dean. Call him sinful, but he loved the feeling of his brother's warmth against him, the feeling of their legs tangled together under the sheets.

Sam's alarm woke them up like usual the next morning. Sam reached over to turn it off, and he lay there for a minute, savoring the feeling of being so close to Dean. He felt Dean's muscles ripple as he stretched, and he sighed as he leaned back on his brother's arms. It was Saturday, so neither boy had anywhere to go. They just lay together, enjoying the sight and feeling of the other as sunlight slowly crept over their bodies.

But over their usual breakfast of cornflakes, the dreamy atmosphere was ruined as Sam jumped straight to the questions they had left unanswered last night.

"Dean?" Sam asked, picking at his food.

"Yeah?", Dean replied, glancing up from his own breakfast that he was happily enjoying.

"Why do you get us money the way that you do?" Sam asked, avoiding eye contact with Dean.

"Sammy", Dean said, a warning growl entering his voice.

"Why not play pool, or cards, or anything?" Sam blurted out, glancing up at Dean. He was on the verge of tears, his eyes round and wet.

"Because it pays more than anything else", Dean said, his eyes warning Sam to end the conversation.

"But Dean-"

"Damn it Sam!  I'm doing it to take care of you. I don't like it, but I don't have any other choice", Dean shouted, his fist slamming onto the table.

" 'm sorry", Sam said, his head downcast. A tear dripped off of his face into his cereal, followed by another. It was all his fault. Dean was hurting himself for him. If he wasn't so stupid and so useless, maybe Dean-

Sam's train of thought was interrupted by Dean's hand falling on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault Sammy. I'm old enough to make my own descisions, and I did", Dean said soothingly.

"But it is, Dean. If I wasn't so useless, you wouldn't have to earn so much money. It  _is_ all my fault!" Sam pushed back his chair and ran to their room, locking the door behind him.

Dean let him go, sadly watching him leave. He had to give him space. And time, lots of time. Dean returned to his breakfast. After all, he was going to need his energy today if he was going to make them any money. And no matter what Sam said, he was going to do whatever it took to keep them out of the cold. And, what could he say? Old habits die hard.


	4. Just People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you! Thanks for sticking through the story this far. I really can't tell you how much this means to me! I apologize for how long it took for this chapter to be posted. I went through about eight different drafts before I decided that I needed a plot chapter, not another feels one.  
> This fic has changed from where I initially saw it going, so I also apologize if this chapter is boring or seems disjointed from the rest.  
> As usual, I would LOVE feedback, so please leave a kudo or comment! Anyways, happy reading!

"Dean, what do you say we look around town tonight? Bobby said there might be a malicious spirit out here. He e-mailed me three obituaries", Sam said later that night as he walked back into the kitchen. He was shuffling through the papers in his hands he had printed off, delaying looking up. In truth, this was less about the case and more about him fixing his fight with Dean.

"Dean?", Sam asked, and upon hearing no reply, he looked up at the empty room.

"Dean!", Sam shouted, fear entering his voice. He ran through the small motel room, and after only a minute of searching, could guarantee that he was alone. Whipping out his cell phone, Sam pressed Dean's name and paced nervously between rooms as he listened to the continued ringing.

 

In a semi-truck about a half of a mile away, Dean continued his kiss with a filthy stranger, ignoring the bitter taste of cigarettes in his mouth. As he came up for breath, he heard his phone ringing with the special ringtone that he had given only to Sammy. It was a chiming that had entranced 8 year old Sam before he was allowed to have his own phone. Dean was brought back from his thoughts by the stranger coughing.

"Do you need to get that?", he asked. Dean could tell by the threat in his voice that if Dean picked up, he could look for money elsewhere. The phone continued to ring as Sam's face peered up at him from the screen. Finally, he looked away, setting his phone off to the side.

"No", Dean said, reaching for the man. It's not important". 

 

After Dean's phone went to his voicemail for the third time, Sam angrily tossed his phone on the table, on top of the printed obituaries.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. Where would Dean go?", Sam asked himself, running his hands through his wavy hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately thinking of every place that Dean might sneak off to. As realization swept over him, Sam's eyes snapped open, and he pelted toward the door, stopping to grab a room key and a leather jacket. Out in the crisp evening air that was steadily getting colder, Sam shivered, searching for the impala. It was gone.

"Dammit, Dean", Sam cursed under his breath, turning and walking up the street, gripping the worn leather of Dean's jacket. After two hours and three unsucessful miles of searching streetcorners, the sky was darkening, and Sam realized he had forgotten his phone back at the motel.

He turned around, and was prepared to head back when one last semi-truck pulled up at the gas station. Making up his mind that this would be the last truck driver he talked to, Sam marched over to the idling car. A man in his late 30's hopped out of the cab, and started filling up the gas tank. He was well muscled, not overweight like a lot of truck drivers. While he waited for the tank to fill, Sam approached him.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone", Sam started, unsure how to continue. After all, how do you casually ask a man if he picked up your brother, who, by the way, was a prostitute? Sam bit his lip in worry. This would never work.

"Well, what do they look like, pardna'?", the man asked, his accent bleeding through on the last word.

"He's about 6 foot tall. He has green eyes and brownish hair, kind of swept up, like this", Sam said, mimicking how Dean fixed his hair in the morning.

"And what might he be wearing?", the man asked.

"Um.....jeans, full of holes, and a tank top", Sam said, thinking back to last night. "He might of had a bit of makeup on". Sam said the last part hesitantly, but he knew that every detail was crucial for helping to find Dean.

"Where might I have seen him at?", the man prompted.

"Probably a streetcorner, maybe leaning on a lightpost". Sam said, his face turning a flaming red.

"Ooooooooh", the man stretched out the word as realization dawned on him. Turning to Sam, hjs eyebrows creased in concern. "You do realize you're too young for that, right?"

Sam hurried to explain. "Not like that. He's my brother". 

"Lucky for you then!", the man said, smiling wide. "I know just where he is".

"Oh, thank you!", Sam said gratefully, glad to know that his brother was okay.

"Here, let me just screw this cap back on, and then we can hop in the truck. I'll take you to him", the man said as he finished filling up the truck. He turned to put the gas pump back on the stand.

"No, really. I can walk. Just give me the street names", Sam said, pulling out his notebook to write in. 

"Now hold up one minute. I can't leave someone as young as you wandering around that part of town alone. Not to mention, it's almost dark. No sir, I tell ya. You'll be riding with me", the man said in finality. Sam looked up at the quickly darkening sky. It would be night soon, and he hadn't brought a flashlight. Considering his options, he realized that this man would be his best bet.

"Alright", Sam said warily, looking up at the tall man.

"Why that's just dandy. Glad you made the right decision. Just hop into that side of the cab", he said, pointing. Sam walked around and opened the door, boosting himself up into the seat. Looking around, he noticed two more men playing cards back in the area they appeared to live in. The first man hopped in and started the semi.

"Hey Ricky. Why do we got a pipsqueak up here?", one of the men in the back asked.

"We're taking him to find his brother, Steve. Remember that dude back at the streetcorner, the one wearing makeup?".

"Sure do", the other man in the back piped up. The rest of the ride was mostly silent, filled with the hum of tires on the road and the slap of cards as they hit the table.

As Sam watched, they moved downtown, before passing the town limits completely.

"Um, I think we're going the wrong direction", Sam said nervously, looking out his locked door. There was no way he could make the eight foot jump out while they were going sixty miles per hour.

 "Untwist your titties. We're almost there", Ricky said, signaling and pulling over to the side of the woods. As soon as the car came to a stop, Sam grabbed his door handle, unlocked it, and jumped.

He soared through the air, hurtling outwards. But right before he cleared the cab, he felt a hand tighten on his jacket, yanking him backwards. His head smacked into the car, and everything fell into blackness.

 

"Hey, Sam. I'm back. I had to go grab groceries", Dean called out. He set a bag containing a few odds and ends on the table. He was pretty proud of himself. Usually Sam was the sly one, not him. But his grocrry store cover up was pretty slick; he had even packed different clothes to change into. He had hurt Sam once. He wouldn't do it again.

"Sammy, I got you a root beer", Dean called as he unpacked boxes and cans. When Sam still failed to appear, Dean set down the tomato sauce he was holding and went to their room to investigate. What he found chilled his blood. The room was empty. 

Running back to the kitchen, Dean looked at the table and noticed Sam's phone sitting on a few papers. A closer inspection revealed these to be obituaries. As Dean examined them, Sam's phone started ringing, breaking the silence. Dean jumped, and almost dropped the phone before he shakily looked at the screen. It was Bobby.

"Sam, thank God", Bobby said as soon as Dean slid the phone to green.

"Bobby, it's Dean"

"Dean. Tell Sam not to go hunting. I was wrong, it's not a spirit. I don't know how I could have been so stupid", Bobby rambled.

"Bobby, what is it?", Dean asked, frightened.

"I just missed all of the evidence pointing at-"

"Bobby. Slow down. What is it?", Dean repeated, dreading the answer.

"People, Dean. It's just people", he said.


	5. The Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is where the non-con comes in! If you will be triggered by assault, non con touching, kidnapping, or threatening, please read no further! There is no rape in this chapter, but there is non consensual touching and assault.
> 
> This is a dark chapter. It is also filled with love and deep meaning and feels, but it is dark. So please know what you are in for before you read! As always, I hope your heart doesn't break in half, (mine did).

When Sam next came around, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head. The second thing he noticed was that he couldn't move his hands or feet.

Sam was sitting in the back of the truck, bound to a chair. He was blindfolded, gagged, and utterly helpless. Testing his restraints, he pulled and tugged, trying to be silent. When the bindings didn't budge, Sam tried to calm his racing mind to figure out what his next move would be. That was when the hand landed on his shoulder.

"Gmmmppphhh", Sam screamed, the sound blocked by the gag. A hacking laugh, interspersed with coughs, came from behind him, as the hand slowly stroked his shoulder.

"The boy's awake , Ricky", the man said, allowing his hand to caress Sam's chest. Meanwhile, Sam tried to surpress a rising moan of disgust as the stranger's fingers felt over him. 

"Good, take your time with him", Ricky replied. Immediately, the man's hand dropped to Sam's crotch and squeezed. Sam jumped and gasped in shock.

"Stay above the waist, Steve", Ricky warned.

"Awwww, you's no fun", Steve muttered, grudgingly moving his hand back up. For the next twenty minutes, Sam was forced to endure the man's spidery touch rub up and down his back, over his stomach and around his hips.

If he had use of his mouth, Sam would have yelled at him, cursed him. As it was, a muffled moan of protest was the best he could do. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the truck parked and was turned off.

Steve's hands disappeared, and Sam let out a grateful sigh. He listened, trying to pick up the movements of Ricky, Steve, and the third man , all of who he knew were in the car. He strained his ears, waiting for the sound of a footstep, or maybe the sound of someone bumping into something. He was startled by the unexpted feeling of metal as a sharp object was pressed against his throat.

"Stay very still. I wouldn't want to accidentally slip", Ricky whispered in his ear. His hand holding the knife twitched, and a single drop of blood slid down Sam's neck. Ricky put his lips on Sam's throat, licking up the blood. His stubble tickled Sam's neck as he fought to reamin still. Ricky's tongue caressed upward, moving over to lick a stripe down the side of Sam's face. As his slick tongue slid over Sam's cheek, he shuddered, unable to hold in the movement.

"What'd I say about moving?", Ricky whispered, before he took his knife and cut down the side of Sam's face, from next to his eye down to his chin. More blood fell, puddling on the curve of his jaw. As Ricky started licking up the blood, a few tears slipped out of Sam's eyes, turning pink as they traced a path down to his chin. Ricky let out a breathy moan, and more tears fell from Sam. 

 _Please, Dean. I need you_ , Sam thought in despiration. He didn't know how long he could hold on.

* * *

"Bobby, I've checked every grocery store, convenience store, and cheap hang out in the town", Dean said into his phone as he steered the Impala back towards the motel. The seat next to him was littered with crumpled notes and cups of empty coffee. The sun was rising towards midday, and Sam had been gone since last night.

"What about the libraries?", Bobby asked, his voice crackling out of the speaker by Dean's ear.

"Checked", Dean said.

"Museums?"

"Checked".

"Gas stations?"

"Checked", Dean confirmed, fear bleeding into his voice.

"Balls", Bobby muttered, silently thinking of anywhere else Sam could have gone.

"Look, Bobby. The Impala's low on fuel, and so am I. We'll do Sam no good if we both become zombies. I'm going to refill the tank and then take a power nap. Call me back if a new idea hits you". Dean flipped his cellphone closed, and pulled into the nearest gas station. He parked, and sat in the car, staring at the empty passenger seat.

A wave of sadness washed over him as he saw where Sam shoukd have been, and Dean gritted his teeth as tears fell down his cheeks. A gasped sob escaped his throat as he thought of what could be happening to Sam. Dean surpressed a shudder, before he screamed, slamming his hand on the Impala's dashboard. For the next few minutes he just cried, letting his pent up emotions out. Finally, he took a shaky breath and wiped his red eyes. He had to be strong for Sam. He had already let him down once, and he wasn't planning on doing it again.

 Exiting the car, Dean started pumping gas. As the tank was filling up, he walked into the store, buying a large cup of black coffee.He paid the cashier, but as he was walking out, he decided to ask the man about Sam.

"Excuse me", he started, trying to get the man's attention. The cashier rolled his eyes, but looked over at Dean.

"Yes?", he asked, impatience in his voice.

"I'm looking for someone. Did you see a boy, around 15, here by himself last night?" Dean waited, hoping against all odds that his reply would be different than the last twenty he had recieved.

"I dunno. You seriously think I remember every customer that comes through here?", he asked in scorn.

 "Please- it's my little brother. I have to find him", Dean pleaded. 

"Sorry, I don't remember any kids by themselves last night", he said. The cashier started to turn away, silently begging the man in aisle 5 to just choose a bag of chips already and come to the checkout line to save him from this wacko.

"Could I look at the security cam footage?", Dean asked in despiration.

"Sorry, customers aren't allowed behind the counter", the cashier replied. With that, he turned to ring up the man who had finally chosen barbecue chips, after almost ten minutes of browsing. Dean waited until the cashier had handed the man his change before he walked back to the counter. The cashier only glared at Dean.

"Do you think this might change your mind?", Dean asked, setting a twenty on the counter. The man's eyes instantly lit up as he eyed the cash greedily.

"Sorry, rules are rules", he replied, eyeing Dean to see what he would do. As thoughts flew through his head, Dean ended his indescision by placing another twenty on the counter. The cashier licked his lips eagerly, before snatching up the money.

"But rules can be bent too. Be quick about it", he said, before turning away again. Dean wasted no time, hurrying behind the counter. He picked up the remote and turned back the footage to last night, before forwarding through it again.

The first time, he watched the store. When Sam didn't walk in, he reround the footage.

The second time, he watched the parking lot. For a while there was nothing, and Dean was about to give up when he noticed a short someone standing by a semi-truck in a leather jacket. 

 _His_ leather jacket. Dean jolted in recognition. He jolted again when he saw Sam climb into the car. As the semi-drove off, Dean paused the video, which had caught part of the liscence plate. Dean hastily pulled out his notebook, and wrote down: 341 - K?? Having gotten what he needed, Dean burst out of the store, running towards his car. He hopped in, and gunned the engine, heading the direction he saw the truck leave in the footage. As he tore across town, he pulled out his phone and called Bobby. The chase was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 should be up really soon, as in about a week soon. I just want to say, I appreciate you reading this far. Really, it means a lot! The amount of support I've received on this story is incredible! So one more time, thank you! I hope to see you soon in Chapter 6. (:  
> -WildFire35


	6. Rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into another plot chapter, but get ready, because the next chapter will be full of feels! For now, you'll have to settle for what little heart you have left being stabbed. Repeatedly. Enjoy!

Dean sat in the Impala, staring at the parked semi-truck in front of him. He had found it, and, he prayed, Sammy too. The license plate glinted under the orange streetlight, reading 341-KIH. Dean continued to tap his knuckles, his heart racing and his pulse pounding. At this point, he would have already stormed the car if it weren't for Bobby. He was on his way up after he had convinced Dean to wait for backup.

But it hurt, knowing how close Sam was, and yet, how far he was too. Right this very moment, they could be hurting his little brother, and he wasn't stopping them. He was sitting here, waiting. There was a cracking sound as Dean's hands clenched tightly around a pen he was fiddling with. Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. As he sat there with his eyes closed, he jumped when a hand tapped on the window. 

Dean swore, before climbing out to see a familiar face. 

"Bobby", Dean said in relief, climbing out and hugging him. Bobby hugged him back, and they stood together for a few seconds, taking comfort in each other. Finally, Bobby pulled away.

"Is that where Sam is?", he asked, pointing his thumb at the semi. Dean only nodded. Bobby pulled a pistol out of his jacket, and opened the barrel, checking to make sure it was loaded. Dean followed suit, and after a few minutes of equipment checks, they were ready to go.The two men advanced toward the trailer, pausing outside. They made eye contact one last time, preparing themselves for what they would see inside.

Dean made the first move, knocking on the door to the truck. A man in his late thirties answered, opening the door and climbing out.

"What can I do for you pardna'?", the man asked, an easy smile on his lips. 

"You can give me my brother back, asshole", Dean replied, pressing the barrel of his gun against the man's forehead. The man tensed, the smile sliding off of his face. 

"Look, I don't know-", 

"Don't lie to me", Dean seethed. "I am not afraid to blow your godamn head off if that's what it takes to get my brother back, so cut the shit. Tell me where he is right now, or you'll be telling the big man downstairs where he is".

"H-h-he's in the semi. B-but look, I n-n-never hurt him, okay? It was all Steve and Ricky, I didn't do nothin' to him, I swear", the man babbled. Dean shoved him over to Bobby, who handcuffed him to the door handle of the semi. Then, with a nod, Dean moved inside.

The cab of the semi was empty, filled with the usual detritus accrued on long road trips: fast food wrappers, maps, and cheap paperback books. Dean moved quickly toward the curtained off area in the back, staying as silent as possible. Taking a steadying breath, he prepared himself before storming through.The first thing he saw was a man sleeping on the ground, covered with a blanket. The second thing he saw was another man siting in a chair, smoking, his face shocked. The third thing he saw was Sammy.

Dean quickly sprang into action, pointing his gun at the second man as Bobby took the sleeper. They made quick work of handcuffing the two, before Dean turned  toward his brother, who was tied to a chair. Sam's eyes were closed and his head slumped to the side. Blood was caked all over his face and still ran down his neck, and cuts were scattered over his entire body. Both of his eyes were swollen, and his face was a quilt of purple, yellow, and blue bruising.

"Sammy", Dean whispered as he cradled his brother's head. Tears welled in Dean's eyes as he saw his brother, who he had failed to protect. When Sam didn't react to Dean's touch, Dean's worry turned to outright fear. He scrabbled around Sam's neck, trying to find a pulse. After a few seconds of searching, he found it, beating quietly and sluggishly. 

"Bobby, we need to get Sam out of here", Dean said, turning to the older man.

"On it", Bobby said, reaching behind Sam and cutting him free. Together, they lifted him and gently carried him out to the Impala, where they layed him in the backseat. Immediately, Dean hopped in, and drove off, leaving Bobby to follow behind in his truck. 

"Hold on Sammy, you're safe now", Dean said, ignoring the stoplight ahead of him and blowing through the intersection. His progress through the city was easy to track as countless cars layed on their horns in anger. But Dean didn't care; he just needed to get Sam somewhere safe.

By the time Bobby arrived at the hotel, Dean had already been there for twenty minutes. Sam was laying on the bed, and Dean was tending to his wounds. He was already icing his eyes, and was working on bandaging up his many cuts. As Bobby helped, they worked silently, neither one wanting to acknowledge their feelings. As they were finishing up, Sam twitched, marking the first movement they had seen from him. Dean dropped the gauze he was holding, and immediately knelt by Sam's head. As he watched, Sam's eyes cracked open, his caramel gaze disoriented. When he finally settled on something, it was Dean. Recognition flashed through Sam's eyes. That was when he started screaming.


	7. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes rape warnings! There is nothing graphic, but the topic is broached. Sorry MotherRussia, I couldn't see any other way for this to go. The next chapter should be happier. :(  
> -WildFire35

"Sam, Sammy, it's me, Dean", Dean said, his hands outstretched, trying to calm Sam. Sam was shaking, his eyes wide with fear as he backed into the wall.

"Please, I'm sorry. I-I-I didn't know-", Sam broke off into choked gasps as tears ran down his face.

"Sammy, you're okay. You're safe", Dean said, his heart breaking as he saw the pain in his brother's eyes. But despite his comforting words, Sam was still terrified.

"Just leave me alone", Sam cried out, sobs wracking his skinny frame. Tears leaked out of Dean's eyes as he felt Bobby's gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him be, Dean. He's not right, yet", Bobby said, guiding Dean out of the room. He closed the door behind them, cutting off the sound of Sam's sniffles. 

"Bobby, he thinks I'm gonna hurt him", Dean said, looking at his friend in anguish. Dean's mind filled with all of the times Sam had trusted him, relied on him. And now he had let him down.

"There's a reason why", Bobby said quietly. Stunned, Dean turned to face Bobby, quivering in anger.

"Why would I ever hurt him? All I ever do is take care of Sam. Everything I do is for Sammy", Dean replied, his eyes shining in anger. He didn't even know how Bobby could accuse him of such a thing.

"I was talking to one of the men, the first one we caught outside the truck", Bobby started. He paused and cleared his throat, before continuing.

"I couldn't figure out why they would kidnap him, so I asked", here Bobby stopped completely, making eye contact with Dean.

"Well, what is it? Why did they do it?", Dean asked impatiently, wanting to understand.

"It was because they met you earlier that night, at work", here Dean's face flushed from red to white as Bobby's words washed over him. Bobby knew about his night job. Bobby's eyes flicked back up to Dean's before returning to his scuffed boots.

"After you refused them, ahem...", Bobby cleared his throat again, and paused searching for the right word.

"Service", Dean supplied bitterly, already knowing what Bobby would say.

"Yes. After you denied them service, they were angry. Furious. And then little Sammy walked up and-", here Bobby broke off as his voice thickened. He couldn't even think about what was next.

"Bobby, they didn't-", Dean asked, stunned. The World seemed to halt as he watched Bobby struggle through tears. 

"Bobby?", Dean growled, watching the man's face. Bobby nodded. Red clouded over Dean's vision and he howled. He groped blindly next to him, finding a vase of flowers that he smashed on the ground. Dean screamed in fury and pain as he knocked over the table and looked in the mirror.

He saw his sweaty, angry face, before he punched it, splitting his relfection into hundreds of tiny shards. Dean sank to his knees, sobbing and holding his bleeding hand as he realized that the bastards had taken one thing that Sam would never be able to get back: innocence.

In the other room, Sam lay on the bed, tears running down his cheeks as he listened to Dean's anguish. 

"I'm so sorry, Dean", Sam whispered as he shoved his face in his pillow. This was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really short chapter, it's all I coukd get out. Let me know what you think! After the long hiatus, I hope chapter 7 was worth it. Hopefully chapter 8 will be up much quicker. (:  
> Anyway, I love to hear from any Faithful Readers that have made it this far. You are my inspiration. <3  
> -WildFire35


	8. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, then hello from the past! I know I've been awful about updating, but I hope this chapter was wrth it! Let me know what you think!  
> -WildFire35

Bobby knocked twice on the door, before gently sliding it open. Sam sat on the bed, staring at his hands. On the table next to him was the last untouched meal Bobby had cooked- pancakes and eggs. Bobby picked up the plate before setting down a grilled cheese sandwich and bowl of tomato soup. He risked a glance up at Sam, who was in the same position he had been in for days. 

His hair was greasy after more than a week of not being washed and his face was an alarming shade of purple from the bruises, but Bobby knew that the real issue couldn't be seen. He gently set his hand on Sam's shoulder before exiting and gently closing the door behind him. As the door slid shut, Bobby pretended not to see Sam's tears. After all, his dignity was all that he had left.

Next, Bobby visited Dean out in the garage. He was leaned over the Impala, a torque wrench in his hand as he idly worked on the engine. Day after day he came out and fiddled with something or other that was in perfect condition. Dark bags hung under his eyes, which were bloodshot from his nightly booze consumption. 

"Hey Dean, I've got lunch inside if you want some", Bobby said. Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and closed the hood before turning to Bobby.

"Sure thing, I'll be right in", he said, faking a smile. The two men went into the house and ate in silence, before Bobby took the lead.

"Dean, I think you should go see Sam", Bobby said. Dean froze, sandwhich half way to his mouth.

"Bobby, I hurt him. This is my fault. I c-can't look at him without-", Dean's voice cracked as he trailed off, staring at the scarred wooden tabletop.

"Dean, you couldn't have stopped that. But you can stop what's happening to Sam now", he said.

"Bobby, I can't", Dean whispered.

"Oh, get over it. You were doing the best you could to care for that boy, and doing a darned good job of it too. But he needs you now more than ever, and you're falling to pieces. He looks up to you, Dean. So you get in there and you help your brother, damnit", Bobby huffed out. Dean thought for a moment before he set down his sandwhich and stood up. Bobby smiled as he walked toward's Sam's room.

"It's a shame you're a hunter", Dean called over his shoulder, "you're almost as inspirational as Oprah". Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Got the butt too", Dean winked, before entering to see his brother.

Sam looked up as Dean walked in.

"Hey Sammy", Dean said, strolling to stand in front of him. Sam averted his eyes, his bangs falling to cover his expression.

"Mind if I sit down?" When Sam didn't reply, Dean eased himself onto the bed next to him, the springs creaking as the bed dipped under his weight.

"Looks like I need to watch how much of Bobby's cookin' I'm eating", Dean chuckled. The brothers sat in silence a moment before Dean cleared his throat.

"Look, Sam. I know you've been through some seriously shitty stuff, but I need you to talk to me", he said. When Sam remained silent, he continued.

"The house is too quite. I need you bitching about how messy I am and telling me about your latest research. I need you to turn down my music and sit in Baby. I need you to eat the rabbit food in the fridge, because otherwise Bobby's going to make me eat it....", Dean trailed off again. "I just need you again, Sammy", Dean finished, staring at his lap. As he contemplated his hands, his attention was caught by a sniffle from the boy next to him. Looking over, he saw that Sam's eyes were red and a few tears were running down his face, which was twisted as he tried not to try.

Dean paused for only a moment before he leaned over and wrapped him in a hug.

"Let it all out, Sammy", Dean said as he patted Sam's back. Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder as sobs wracked his body, his breath hitching. They sat like that, each clutching the other tightly as a wet spot on Dean's shoulder grew, but Dean didn't mind. He was just glad that a little part of Sam was back. Dean patted Sam's back and stroked his hair until eventually the worst had passed. 

"I love you, Sam", Dean said to his brother's silent form. And even though he didn't reply, Dean knew that Sam loved him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave a kudo and a comment! I treasure each comment and horde them away for rainy days, so make sure to give me one! Thanks for reading this far- you truly deserve a medal!  
> -WildFire35

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! If you liked this, please leave a kudo and a comment, and check out my other work.


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